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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28762263">Early Signs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st'>belivaird_st</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:07:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28762263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The days get colder. The ladies get older.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carol Aird/Therese Belivet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Early Signs</h2></a>
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    <p>Late one evening, Therese dipped a washcloth in a bowl filled with steamed water before massaging Carol’s hand with it. Carol watched her as she sat on the vanity bench in her nightgown.</p><p>“What did the doctor say today?” Therese asked.</p><p>“He calls it carpal tunnel,” Carol answered, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll have to wear a godawful wrist splint for the rest of the week.”</p><p>“If it helps,” Therese nodded, now overlapping the warm wet towel on Carol’s knuckles before rubbing them gently. </p><p>“This helps,” Carol sighed, making them lock eyes for a brief moment. </p><p>“Seeing you drop things in the house made me worry,” Therese went on. “I didn’t know what was going on. I thought you were about to have a stroke...”</p><p>“No, darling. I’m just getting old. What can you do?” Carol smiled sadly. </p><p>“We both are,” Therese said, reaching up to pick out a visible strand of silver hair on her head.</p>
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